


Be That Self Which One Truly Is

by novadiablo



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Drunk Sex, Mental Instability, Multi, Slash, Triggering Subject matter, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:28:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novadiablo/pseuds/novadiablo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LOKI HAS BEEN SENTENCED TO THREE YEARS EXILE ON MIDGARD AND STRIPPED OF HIS POWER TO JUST CALM THE FUCK DOWN.</p><p>*please note that this will remain incomplete as I am now unable to write FrostIron as a ship. If anyone has any interest in continuing this fanfiction, please contact me because I would like to see it completed*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. “The function of prayer is not to influence God, but rather to change the nature of the one who prays.” - Soren Kierkegaard

**Author's Note:**

> Please be warned: later chapters of this fic will contain triggering subjects which I will list in the end notes so as to give one the chance to leave. Please read end notes if you have any history of being triggered by the written word in any form. On another subject, please tell me if this is crap. I've never written Avengers despite being a long time Marvel fan and I'm slightly worried. Also, this is what Symbiotes look like: http://media.comicvine.com/uploads/0/7449/1212798-710492_symbiote_nation.jpg. Pretty, aren't they? c: [[UNBETAED.]]

The TV blared in the background of a dank little flat in the middle of New York, casting a blue light on the walls of the tiny living room. The sound was low but colours – gold, silver, red, blue, black and an overwhelming green - flashed quickly on the screen; the bad filming giving the whole event a very motion sick feel. A sense of boredom had descended on the whole apartment, as though the walls had joined in the lethargic day. It was a warm mid-afternoon, and the tall occupant of the house returned from his brief stint in the kitchen with an egg and lettuce sandwich procured from 7-Eleven earlier that day in hand. Sitting on the threadbare couch, he turned his attention back to the Avengers Channel and the twenty-four seven coverage of America’s favourite superhero team. When the reporters weren’t getting in the way trying to film the blow by blow action, replays and gossip news filled in time. Loki liked watching the replays and memorising and recognising the techniques, just in case he ever had to take them on again. It was an idle thought – his powers had been stripped indefinitely and even after his exile there was no guarantee he’d be able to return to Midgard. The whole debacle with the Tesseract smoothed out significantly better than Loki expected – Thor and that Stark fellow had managed to reverse any damage caused including the lost lives – something the Loki couldn’t help but be impressed by – and Loki had milked the threat of the Chitauri for all it was worth, playing the victim as much as he could. Lie smith indeed. While his people still despised him and he was no better off than a pathetic human, he wasn’t dead or being torn limb from limb, so he figured it was a result. Now the only thing he had to battle was this incessant boredom. He missed the roar of war, the confusion and the fast pace, the smell of blood and the sound of conflict. He was born a Frost Giant and raised an Asgardian – war was in his genetics and his upbringing; nature and nurture.

  
His train of thought was severely derailed when he heard a change in footage from his television. The flashing red **• LIVE** appeared at the top right of the screen and the man in the iron suit – the one who had offered him a drink – flashed past, followed quickly by a slim, red-headed woman. They were dashing down a street in New York City towards what looked like the centre of hell. Slick blue-hued creatures with vicious mouths that overwhelmed their own faces, gnashing teeth and flat white eyes with jagged edges the size of a man’s hands curved around their grotesque face. Loki recognised the gruesome, sinewy, muscular body, ridden with white spikes as a swarm of Symbiotes. Parasites come to invade Midgard. They weren’t a large swarm; probably around sixty or seventy; probably just a rogue swarm then – the Symbiote race had been… convinced… to leave Asgard, and by extension Midgard, be last time they’d met Odin. It has been quite the battle and Loki remembered it with relish as he watched the Avengers try to contain them to their spawning area. They were all on top form, nothing more than flashes of colours past the shaking camera. New York City was in a wee bit of a state of panic and Loki grinned at that too – nothing like an old bit of hysteria to make his day. But as he watched on, something was clear: the Avengers were losing. It wouldn’t be obvious to the untrained eye, but Loki had been watching their fights so often it was drilled into his head – the Captain’s delayed shield throw, Metal Man’s faltering power, the redhead’s swift movements slowing, the archer’s quiver quickly running out of arrows. Their techniques were not adapting to the present situation as they should, and Loki was struck with a momentous idea.

  
He was on to Odin in seconds. The ring on his finger was a direct link to Odin’s, set up when his exile began much to the disapproval of many of his adoptive father’s council. He hadn’t used it, only accepted the message, but now he needed Godspeed and he had it. His father’s jovial greeting made him cringe, and he cut him off.  
  
 _“Loki, my son! How fares thee on such a glo-“_  
  
“You’ll forgive me if I dispense with the pleasantries, father, as I have a most dire situation and time is of the essence.”  
  
 _“What is it, my son?”_ Odin asked, his voice curious but no particularly worried.

Loki took a deep breath before continuing. “I am in the process of witnessing brother Thor and his comrades quite entirely lose a battle with a swarm of Symbiotes. I thought it… prudent… to inform you of such an event.”

 _“Ah,”_ Odin replied, and Loki could hear him thinking from all the way in Midgard. _“That does seem a problem. It would be greatly difficult to dispatch a suitable warrior at this time. The Bifrost is still severely damaged, Loki.”_  
  
Perfect, Loki thought as he replied. “I am aware, of course. However, something must be done.” There was a short silence before he continued; it was calculated to the second. “I, of course, would gladly step in, as I have significant experience in battling Symbiotes, and I would feel as though I was repaying the Midgardians for my misdeeds, but in my present state I would be quite helpless.” Each word was steady and timed and he let not even a hint of hope tinge his voice. It was a throwaway comment; planting the idea into his father’s head.  
  
Odin was quiet for a while and Loki could hear the low rumble of unintelligible speech in the background. After a time punctuated only by the ticking of the clock on the mantle, Odin spoke directly to Loki once more.  
  
 _“Loki, my son, I have consulted with some of my guard and we have come to what we believe is the optimal short term decision. If you are amenable, we would ask you to drive back the swarm of Symbiotes from Midgard and in return we will allow you to access your magic for a time.”_  
  
“Hmm…” Loki pondered, delaying his decision time to put Odin on edge. Finally, he replied with the affirmative. “Yes, I suppose that lending a hand is the least I can do, but we really must hurry if there is to be any of Midgard left to save.”  
  
 _“I am proud of you, Loki.”_  
  
At that, his connection was no longer but a warm tingle began in his fingers and slowly spread through his bones – up his arms, legs and torso, into his heart and his mind. For a moment Loki relished the feeling, his head falling back and his mouth splitting into a wide, toothy grin. Then he disappeared.


	2. "There is nothing with which every man is so afraid as getting to know how enormously much he is capable of doing and becoming." - Soren Kierkegaard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WHERE HAS LOKI DISAPPEARED TO?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Notes about triggering subjects in first chapter*

Tony Stark was flat on his back and absolutely winded. He blinked – one, twice and then registered JARVIS speaking in his ear. He focused on getting his breathing back to normal, cringing at the metallic taste of blood on his lips. Loki Laufeyson appeared next to him, dusted himself off and then ran headlong into the fight that Tony had just been ejected from. Tony blinked one last time before sitting up with a heavy groan and pulling up his faceplate. The centre of the city was just a blur of dark blue and purple, the rest of the Avengers swallowed up in a swarm of extra-terrestrial-gross-things. He watched as Steve’s shield flew clear out of the throng, soon followed by Steve, who landed hard and slid a few metres. He was not far from Tony. When he recovered, he looked up, confused, and pointed, eyes shifting to Tony. “Did you see…?”  
  


“Yup,” was Tony’s reply, and they both wearily stood up. The first explosion happened – fiery orange and red. There was a screaming snarl that was so ugly that both Steve and Tony cringed. Where there had before been a mass of monsters there was now a void and Tony watched on as Natasha and Clint got themselves well out of there. Another explosion occurred, and then another, with the aliens jumping around uncertainly and the chaos increasing. There were a few smaller explosions, followed by the same chilling squeal that echoed through the emptied streets. The swarm was becoming less and less and eventually thinned enough that the Avengers, who had stood together to watch, caught flashes of Loki’s white trainers in the sea of dark, weaving sleekly through the mass. They also found Thor blundering his way through the aliens with no purpose what-so-ever, hitting the things with Mjolnir to no avail. Then the fire started.  
  


Loki stood in the throng of Symbiotes, shuddering under the almost deafening squeal. It was threatening of overtake his mind as he carved another hole in the mass of dark with fire. He was sweating under his jeans, and furious. Furious at the Avengers for not using their goddamn brains, furious at these creatures for doing all he refused himself, and furious at Thor for continuing fight fruitlessly out of some sort of misplaced loyalty to his brother. Loki punched a Symbiote square in the eye and the crushing pain in his hand brought his thoughts into sharper focus. He could be annoyed later; right now he needed to concentrate on the problem at hand – he needed a fire. Dragging his mind together, he poked around briefly for the part in his brain that stored all of the good stuff, and felt the power being drawn out. The usual feeling of tugging at his nose and ears followed and his eyes burned. He pointed his hand once again at a thick mass of the Symbiotes and released. The power shot down his neck, through his shoulder and to the tips of his fingers. All that resulted was a quick bolt of fire, and explosion and the scattering of the slick creatures. _Damn_. Loki summoned his powers once more, blocking out the chaos around him and tried again. It was more sustained this time, the fire burning for a bit longer. Loki tried not to let himself get frustrated, constantly being pulled away from his concentration by the urgency of the situation – the Symbiotes had now identified him as the threat and he had three big gashes in his arm and one possible worrisome one in his throat. The smell of his own blood sharpened his mind and, summoning the last of his energy reserves, he tried once more. This time he had success. He let the bedlam seep back into his mind as he held the spell, walking backwards and spreading it further. It was working – soon most of the Symbiotes were being consumed by the flames or fleeing back to their spawn point to get back through to their planet, that awful screeching noise filling the smoky air once more. Loki released the spell and felt most of the energy drain from his body, his anger rising up again. Stupid humans. He battled his way through the remaining Symbiotes and walked back towards the Avengers, well aware of the picture he made.  
  


The Avengers stood together as they watched the God of Mischief emerge from the haze. His long raven hair was messy and dirty but still entirely in place, his face was smudged with ash, his leather jacket, tight jeans and his white trainers utterly ruined, but he walked with his head high and his shoulders back, framed by chaos, and destruction, flames licking their way through the remaining alien bodies. His face was set hard and his eyes were looking straight at Thor. As he came close enough, his voice could be heard and it wasn’t level at all.  
  


“Why are you even here, Thor Odinson?” His voice boomed and he was every bit the over-powering God that he was raised as. “What is your purpose? If you cannot even protect these pathetic mortals from a miniscule swarm of Symbiotes then how are you supposed to rule over Asgard?”  
  


Thor stuttered for a second, looking down at Mjolnir and back up at Loki, but he was already walking away, with one last remark. “This is why you’ll always need me, _b_ _rother_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is actually magical like Loki. Also FrostIron? Or FrostHulk? Because either could work with the story I've planned out, I'd love some opinions on what people want to see. Once again, first time writing for Marvel despite being a long time fan yada yada yada hope you liked c:


	3. “To dare is to lose one's footing momentarily. Not to dare is to lose oneself.” ― Søren Kierkegaard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SOMETIMES, PEOPLE TALK WAY TOO MUCH. BRUCE BANNER AGREES.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *please note trigger warnings*

To Bruce it felt like half of SHIELD was stuffed in this tiny office, with Fury screaming at Thor and, by extension, Odin (which Bruce felt was particularly reckless considering the whole God thing) and the rest of the Avengers sat quietly, even Tony, probably still a bit confused. Bruce had been on a trip to the Scandinavian regions with Agent Hill to visit a laboratory who were keen to do some research on his case, but they’d been called back rather abruptly for reasons Bruce still didn’t have a full grasp on. As far as he could tell, there was something that didn’t correlate between the word ‘Loki’ and the statement ‘saved New York and probably the world’.

Fury was having a right old rant to Odin through Thor’s charmed ring about how he was never informed that Loki was on Earth, and just what was Odin thinking letting a mass murderer run free on the planet he’d tried to take over just months ago? Odin was silent until Fury finished the tirade that everyone in the room knew he was putting on to (unsuccessfully) try to regain some power in the situation. Bruce didn’t even know the situation but he knew that was never going to happen. Odin, likely tired of Fury’s crap, forcefully but fairly explained that not only had Loki had endured a harsh punishment prior to his exile, he’d been stripped of his power and sent to live as a mortal for three Asgardian years, until yesterday afternoon when he offered to assist the Avengers, who, he pointed out were losing quite dramatically before his son intervened. The pride in his voice made Bruce smile a bit; no matter what happened between Loki and his adoptive father, it was clear Odin still cared deeply for him.

Despite this, Fury still felt the need to demand Loki be housed in SHIELD headquarters for the rest of his stay, or else he has to leave. Odin chuckled, clearly showing his disdain, but humoured him by saying he would think about it. They ended the conversation quickly and Fury left the room in a monumental sulk. Bruce pitied Agents Hill and Coulson as this moment. When the room was almost empty – Natasha and Clint followed Fury out in an attempt to placate the man – Thor sat down heavily next to Tony and rubbed his eyes in frustration. In a moment they began talking in hushed voices. Not wanting to eavesdrop, Bruce kept his eyes averted, but he couldn’t help but overhear snatches of the conversation – ‘Fury’, ‘experiments’, ‘Stark Tower’ – things like that. Tony seemed to be having an actual, adult conversation. Well, Bruce thought so until Tony jumped up and turned to Steve. “C’mon, Capsicle, I want to ask JARVIS which club currently has the highest concentration of human beings willing to have sex with me and you’re my wingman.” He promptly sassed out of the room with a concerned and slightly bemused Steve following behind.

~

Bruce let himself into the same room the next day and was so overwhelmed by the booming voice of Odin that he almost Hulked out just from the pure noise and carefully controlled anger radiating from ring held in Thor’s two large hands. The voice thundered throughout the office and suddenly Bruce realised where Thor got his vocal abilities. He closed the door quietly, not that it would have mattered, and sat down, trying to tune into the conversation.

“-Have spoken to your man of Iron and we have struck a compromise which I have no doubt you will be greatly willing to accept.”

“I will not be willing to accept any compromise!” Fury replied, furious. Bruce could feel the tension in the room rise to breaking point. Tony stood up at that point. “Settle down, Mr Furious, we’re getting JARVIS to babysit our Reindeer frenemy. He can do time at Stark tower, it’ll be totally safe.”

Fury was very close to breaking point, Bruce could sense it. He considered leaving, but he wanted to see where this went. Odin’s voice was heard next, over Fury’s easily. “Might I remind you and your superiors, Director Fury, that while we of Asgard tolerate and, in fact, exercise lenience, towards you mortals of Midgard, you would do well not to disappoint me?”

Bruce could almost feel Fury counting to ten in his head, calming himself before answering. He quietly told Odin he would have an answer tomorrow, and Bruce found that strange – if Loki was wondering around New York, wouldn’t Fury be best to take the compromise knowing that he would at least be able to keep tabs on the god?

Soon after the connection was finished, the Council called Fury and they exchanged words, and the team dispersed, all going their separate ways, until they found themselves in the very same room then next day.

~

Bruce was getting pretty over it – you’d think they’d at least find a bigger meeting room. As it was Thor took up more space than he actually needed and Tony had half of his suit with him to tweak when things got boring, but word had got round that this was really, truly the final day of arguments.

As soon as the connection to Asgard was made, Fury began to speak. “The Council and I have discussed your proposal.” He said, stunted. He made a face like he had something sour in his mouth – or it’s possible that’s how he always looked. He continued after Odin made an enquiring noise. “We… have decided to accept your offer.” He says, almost sadly. Odin’s happy laugh filled the room and Fury tried a few times to continue before giving up and sitting there, waiting for the booming noise to die down. When it finally did, Odin went to speak and Fury cut him off.

“I am truly gla-“

“We have one condition.” Fury said this in a very commanding voice – Odin had obviously been rubbing off on him. The room went entirely silent, and Tony stopped playing with his suit to look up. Bruce shuffled forward in his seat a little bit.

“Oh?” Odin asked.

“Loki Laufeyson is to join the Avengers as a full-time member during his exile here.”

The sound of Steve’s mug shattering on the tiled floors was the only sound in the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So was this too boring? I kind of just had to get it out of the way, but if it was too boring yell at me. I hope I characterised Odin right! It turns out unanimous vote is that this goes FrostIron, which I don't mind (even if I'm a bit scared to write Tony), but one day I WILL write an angsty FrostHulk fic, you'll see. As always feedback is magical as this is my first time writing for Marvel at all. Have a nice day c:


	4. "Patience is necessary, and one cannot reap immediately where one has sown." - Soren Kierkegaard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IN WHICH JARVIS DEVELOPS A CRUSH ON A CERTAIN RAVEN-HAIRED ASGARDIAN INDIVIDUAL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Please note the warnings and triggering subjects in the notes in the first chapter. Also add to these possible PTSD*

Tony chewed his lip as he sat in his futuristic-themed receiving room (he had fourteen, all of which had a theme – his favourite was a Teletubbies theme, but he’d rather spoon out his liver than admit to that), with Clint sitting opposite. The shiny silver material of the sofas suddenly looked way too tacky; he could taste copper as he bit through the skin of his lips. Thor would be arriving any minute after picking up Loki from a 7 Eleven way too close to a pub Tony liked to frequent for his liking – Thor was the only one Odin trusted to be able to not only control Loki, though Tony secretly doubted that, but to safely take him to Stark Tower.

Tony had been tweaking JARVIS since he’d had that quiet conversation with Thor that Bruce had politely waited through before taking Thor back to his place where he was babysitting the Asgardian so that Thor didn’t wander off to Dunkin’ Donuts at some ungodly hour of the night or try to call Fury on his LG Stark phone. Tony was the only one who had been willing to receive him – along with Clint, of all people, who shrugged and wouldn’t explain his reasoning. The deal with Odin had been made – Loki would be trained up and join the Avengers for the rest of his exile, while remaining in Stark Tower, where JARVIS and the occasional Avenger could babysit. It wasn’t a particularly good deal on Fury’s part – if anything it was giving Loki more of a chance to rebel once more, but Tony doubted Loki would. While Fury threatened Loki with the pain of death if he strayed, Odin would most certainly overrule that within seconds, and Tony didn’t at all like the sound of the ‘harsh punishment’ Loki had already endured.

Unfortunately, Fury had found the chance to have _words_ with Tony in the last few days, and he officially became Loki’s babysitter, allowed off duty only to protect the people of Earth or for business obligations. Tony had quickly established that rabid fornication with women he will never speak to again was absolutely vital to the growing success of Stark Industries – getting his name out in as many ways as possible, just in case people couldn’t read it across the New York skyline.

Tony and Clint both jumped out of their skins when JARVIS began to speak. “Thor Odinson and Loki Laufeyson have now entered the tower, sir.”

Clint looked at Tony with a grim expression and Tony nodded. “Direct them to the private elevator, bring them here, JARVIS.”

“Of course, sir.”

The wait for Tony’s admittedly fast elevator to arrive felt like decades. Neither Clint nor Tony had any idea what to expect when Thor and Loki walked through the door – Chrissake they could both be killed on the spot. What he doesn’t expect is for them both to walk in looking like designer models. Loki, hair slicked back and tied with a band, with his crème and green trenchcoat and his leather pants and an egg and lettuce 7 Eleven sandwich in hand, and Thor, not in armour at all, but an unbuttoned blazer, with a shirt darker than night underneath and goddamn _jeans_ , but that wasn’t what stunned Tony – Thor had gotten a haircut, with the tips of his hair only just flicking under his ears.

Entirely forgetting the gravity of the situation, Tony exclaimed, “Thor! Your hair!” Thor stopped in the doorway, stunned, and bit his lip. “Yes, friend Bruce insisted that it was getting too long.” Thor was flushed all over and Loki sneered next to him.

The room, in his opinion, was tacky. Then again, after the gold and vastness and the rich draperies of Asgard everything looked a little disappointing. Loki honestly didn’t know why Thor chose to stay here.

“It suits you, Thor,” said the Hawk man, his eyes not the glowing ice blue that Loki remembered.

“Aye, Bruce agreed, Hawkman” Thor said, and flushed a deeper red. Loki ignored his brother and continued to observe the room. He could feel Stark’s eyes on him and Barton’s deliberate gaze toward anything that was not him.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Thor looked around at them all and cleared his throat. “As you know, Man of Iron and Eye of Hawk, this is my brother, Loki Odinson of Asgard.”

Tony stepped forward. “Mmm, name rings a bell,” he said, pointing with crossed arms, before clicking in mock recognition. “I remember now, I offered you a drink and you threw me off the top of my building.”

Loki smirked and held out his hand, “Loki Laufeyson, in your custody.” Tony, surprisingly, moved his drink to his other hand to take Loki’s. Loki tilted his head slightly.

“I think you remember me, so I won’t bother introducing myself,” Clint said, holding out his hand also. Loki took it briefly.

“Ah yes; the human with a _most_ intriguing mind, if you don’t mind me saying so.” Loki stepped past him to look around the room. He kept his head held high, trying to hide his stuttering heartbeat – yes he could take this place, hell, half the city, down in a blink of the eye, but his mind flashed back to the… _punishment_ Odin’s men had inflicted on him and it really didn’t seem worth it. Not to mention the fact that if any of the human race were going to be a threat to him, it would be the two in the room with him at the moment – and perhaps the one Thor was bunking with.

“So this is where I’m to be held captive.” It was sufficient, Loki supposed – he had managed to get most of the building plans through an easily-led-astray SHIELD agent, though he believed that even those didn’t account for everything in the place. He’d seen the multiple science labs and had briefly despaired his unlikely use of them, and raised an eyebrow at each of the labelled suites: _Romanov, Barton, Rogers, Banner, Odinson, Stark_ (which was significantly bigger than all of the others – combined). Avengers Tower indeed.

“Yep, when you’re not fighting for the Avengers, you’re here.” Loki doesn’t turn around but continues to look around the room. “Ah yes, I’m to join your little initiative. I can’t imagine many of you are very pleased about that.”

“That little initiative destroyed your army,” Clint pointed out dryly before Stark cut him off.

“None of us really care as long as you don’t go all Judas on us.” Loki does look back at that, one eyebrow only slightly raised. “JARVIS is here to babysit you, JARVIS will you introduce yourself to Reindeer Games here please?”

Suddenly the room flashed white and blue and JARVIS’ voice purred from the tiny speakers everywhere in the room. “Greetings, God of Mischief, I am JARVIS, an AI created to assist with the needs of Tony Stark and his guests. Please be aware that your actions will be constantly monitored for safety reasons, and should you need anything at all you need only address me by saying my name. I hope that you will enjoy your stay, sir.”

Tony rolled his eyes at Clint. Loki smirked. “I am most charmed to meet you, AI JARVIS.”

JARVIS dimmed his lights slightly in acknowledgement but before anyone could speak further Thor cleared his throat.

“If you do not mind my leave, Brother Loki, Metal Man and Clint Barton, friend Bruce has promised Tarts of Pop upon my return, for which I am most eager.” He shuffled in the doorway, a flush once again rising on his face.

“Yeah, yeah, Fabio, go play house with Dr. Smashy, we can look after your wayward brother for a while, can’t we JARVIS?”

“Of course, sir. It would be my pleasure.” Tony was sure it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this happened. Also ThunderScience is totally going to become way more of a thing than I expected.


	5. "Most men pursue pleasure with such breathless haste that they hurry past it." - Soren Kierkegaard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WHY IS CLINT REALLY HERE? ALSO COULSON?

His bedroom was significantly larger than it had been in the shoddy apartment that he’d managed to find without a job. The kitchen was always well-stocked though Loki doubted Stark ever cooked, and the training rooms, though Loki hadn’t used them yet, seemed more than adequate. Overall, Loki knew he should be content here, even scheming a way to get to Alfheim or Vanaheim, but he’d barely spoken to anyone since he’d been in the tower – other than the charming and slightly pushing AI named JARVIS. He’d taken to lying on his bed and conjuring a sphere to throw at the ceiling, and after nightfall making his way to Stark’s library (three floors with five trick shelves – at least).

Irritatingly, the lack of human interaction was taking its toll on Loki’s mind. He had never done well stagnant; he’d been raised to desire the chaos of war: the metallic clang of weapons against armour, the sting of dust and spit and cold air in his eyes, the bruises that bloomed and healed within hours and most of all the heavy, coppery taste of blood, the rusty smell of life at it splattered on armour, hair, faces, weapons, as it sat in the air, dense and real. That was what Loki really loved about battle – the blood; to him it was the thrill of the fight, and left him feeling dizzy with the reality of mortality.

His quashed this bloodlust as much as he could when he began to live in Stark Tower. He buried it under the tales he read in the Stark library – ranging from fantasy to crime to romance to science fiction; he suppressed it by concentrating on retraining the magic receptors in his brain with minor conjurations and made-up spells; he inhibited it by keeping in touch with JARVIS and eating mountains of egg and lettuce sandwiches. It worked for four days.

His avoidance of the humans ended one morning when the man with the eyes of a hawk at the peak of human physicality knocked on his suite door (well, not knocked, but certainly asked JARVIS to get him out of the bath). Loki dressed in a button-down shirt and some dark blue chinos and opened the door expectantly.

Clint glanced at him and walked away, saying behind him, “It’s time you started your training.” Loki shrugged and stepped out of the door as Jarvis turned off all of the lights and followed Clint down the shiny hallways to one of the medium sized gyms. Barton stood on one side of a large blue foam circle that the room was built around.

“You’re the absolutely last person I expected to be here, Clint Barton,” Loki said conversationally as he walked over to a weapons rack and casually observed a steel quarterstaff with a bladed end.

“You and everyone else.” Clint said quickly before continuing, “You will stand at the other edge of the circle and we will fight without weapons to begin with. JARVIS will monitor carefully and immediately stop the fight the second anything becomes life-threatening in any way he sees fit.”

Clint took his stance and Loki stood for a second before quickly transforming his clothes into a light version of his everyday Asgardian armour and bringing up his hands. They circled each other for a moment before Loki swooped in with a high kick which Clint promptly ducked before coming back at Loki with some quick jabs. He blocked them and grabbed Clint’s arm, bending it behind his back.

“You’re not here out of the goodness of your heart,” Loki said, pulling Clint close to him, back to chest, “so why are you here?” he whispered into Clint’s neck, low enough that JARVIS wouldn’t pick it up.

Clint was breathing heavily, struggling slightly in Loki’s impossibly strong grip. He paused before replying. “I’m here so the second you turn on us I can run an arrow through you.” He pulled himself out of Loki’s grip, flipping the god over his shoulder. Loki rolled out of the move gracefully, bouncing back up and starting once again on the attack.

“You hold no vendetta against me for my mind control; this is something else.” Clint really swung then, growling “shut up and fight,” as he missed Loki again. Loki’s face broke into a grin as he blocked another jab and managed to hit Clint in the side with a fist. “Oh, I am.”

Clint narrowed his eyes questioningly. “You fight dirty,” he remarked as he dove into Loki’s stomach, only to fall straight through illusion as the real god stood by, amused, with his arms crossed. “This is about Coulson,” he said, observing Clint, who was quiet as he caught his breath. “Why bother avenging someone who’s not even dead?”

Clint took a deep breath and looked about to attack when Natasha Romanov slammed both doors open, making an entrance Loki approved of. Loki grinned at her and both she and Clint began fighting him. Despite the fact that Romanov was much more nimble than Clint, she held no weapons and he held all of the advantages – a significantly quicker recovery time, the speed and strength fitting of a god and prince and, of course, magic, which he used sparingly simply for the entertainment value. So in truth he was finding it quite easy to keep them off and was in fact not even breaking a sweat. He parried and feinted and used minor magic, grinning the whole time, infuriating Barton even more and providing a challenge that Romanov relished.

Tony Stark was fiddling with a new arrow for Clint that he and Bruce had been working on when JARVIS caught his attention. “Sir, you should see this.”

“What is it JARVIS?” He said, not looking up and he connected a fiddly wire with another fiddly wire. JARVIS was silent for a second before bringing up one of the surveillance cameras on a screen right near Tony. “It is footage from level 85 surveillance camera 36, sir.”

Tony looked up and observed, not moving a muscle until he saw Clint and Natasha step out of the circle to break while Loki smirked, leaning against a conjured staff. He saw Clint mouth ‘show off’ and laughed and observed the demigod for a while longer before tearing his eyes away and looking back down to the Hulk-subduing arrow. He found he couldn’t remember where he was up to; how odd. “Send that footage to Director Fury, JARVIS. I like to show off when I’m right. Which is always.”

“Of course, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the update took so long, some pretty major (good) things happened recently. You'll notice there has been a pairing change. I don't know if it's my aversion to het or if Clintson is just the best thing ever. I hope this doesn't bother anyone. Also Science Bros may feature a bit more in this because Science Boyfriends can't. Once again, this is my first time writing for the Marvel fandom so feedback is the fuel to Loki's magic xox.


	6. "Our life always expresses the result of our dominant thoughts." - Soren Kierkegaard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'WHY ARE YOU HERE' AS IN THE RECROOM OR 'WHY ARE YOU HERE' AS IN SOME ANGSTY EXISTENTIAL CRISIS?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very brief mentions of torture/punishment/gore. Please check warnings.

Loki was sitting in the Avengers rec room studying JARVIS’ collection of Avengers fights when Stark walked in the day after he began training with Clint. The god was curled up like a cat, his inky hair falling to frame his face, parted in the middle, as his eyes scanned every movement, darting back and forth quickly. He was hovering a 7 Eleven egg and lettuce sandwich in its packet just above his hand and as Tony stood there he watched as a piece broke off apparently of its own accord and made its way to Loki’s mouth, where he accepted it and chewed methodically, never taking his eyes off the action.

Tony was pretty used to displays of non-human abilities around his tower these days – Thor was a part time resident, Steve pretty much lived in the training rooms when he wasn’t working for SHIELD and obviously buddy Bruce’s little green problem was hard to ignore at the best of times, especially when he almost Hulked out if Tony accidentally exploded something or made a piece of scrap metal fly right past his head at high velocity.

Never though, had Tony seen such a careless abuse of abilities. Steve would have kittens seeing such vast power being used to eat a fucking sandwich. Loki Laufeyson: not a known giver of fucks. Tony snorted at his own joke and Loki raised an eyebrow and ignored him. Bastard probably knew he was there the whole time. Tony sat down on a single sofa and looked at Loki. “Couldn’t tear your eyes away from my tight arse long enough to eat your sandwich, huh?” If Tony was a betting man – which he was – he would have staked his fortune that he saw the right side of Loki’s mouth lift infinitesimally.

They sat in silence watching a replay of the Avengers recent fight with a rogue group of Kodabaks, a fight Tony remembered well because it almost completely destroyed his Mark VII suit. How was he supposed to know that he’d one day face pig men with alarming hoofs? He heard an amused huff from Loki as he was taken down out of the sky and Tony, a bit miffed, decided to distract him. “That was some good fighting in there yesterday. I think Clint officially does not like you.”

Loki rolled his eyes and accepted that this annoying mortal was not going to stop talking to him. “Barton already has a long list of reasons he ‘does not like me’, and my little foray into mind control is not all that high.”

Tony went to open his mouth again to ask what the hell that meant when the god cut him off. “Why am I here, Stark?”

Tony blinked. “’Why are you here’ as in the recroom or ‘why are you here’ as in some angsty existential crisis?”

Loki gave him a look that so clearly conveyed pain at his idiocy that Tony felt like his brain was being pummelled with distaste. “No, fool, why am I here moderately safe in this tower instead of being flayed alive by Agnar or tortured by your SHIELD group?”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “… Is that… likely? The whole flayed alive thing? Like, Odin wouldn’t do that, right, he wouldn’t kill his son, adopted or not, would he?” Tony didn’t know for sure, but Odin seemed like a fair guy. Certainly not the evil type, otherwise Earth – Midgard – would have been under his rule for centuries, surely.

Anger flared in Loki’s eyes. “Likely? _Likely_?” He almost yelled, and then suddenly all emotion had disappeared, like a switch had been flicked. “We of Asgard heal incredibly fast.”

Tony completely froze at that. What did that mean? He didn’t mean what Tony thought he meant, truly? It hadn’t already happened, _no_!

“It matters not. The past is of little consequence, despite how near it is. You have not explained your charity and so as a matter of course I will treat it with suspicion.”

Tony nodded, grasping for a way to explain. “Everyone fucks up,” he eventually said, “I do, monumentally and probably weekly. Thor fucks up, Bruce fucks up every time he goes green, hell, Steve fucks up and he’s supposed to be the biggest goody two-shoes around. Thor explained to me the crap with the Chitauri about being threatened and how you were in over your head, and besides, it pisses off Fury.”

Loki’s expression didn’t move the whole time Tony was speaking and he pauses before replying. “One does not build an empire such as yours by doing favours out of the goodness of your _heart_ ,” Loki replied hautily.

“I’ve seen you fight. You’re an asset to the team. We’d never have survived that blue-thing attack if you hadn’t stepped in. You’re obviously powerful and knowledgeable where we have gaps in our research. Ignoring your leather fetish and the fact that you like to emulate a reindeer on occasion, you can help.”

Loki smirked. “You’re not really ignoring my leather fetish, I can tell.” His eyes flashed and there was a flutter of a wink there.

Instantly Tony was transported to the precipice of terrified, possibly about to tumble into weirdly aroused. “Are you flirting with me, Laufeyson?”

“Tongue of silver, mortal. You’d do well to never believe a word I say.” They were silent after that, Tony trying his hardest not to look like a deer in the headlights. He felt like the ground was being pulled out underneath him; a less literal version of what happened during their last conversation. Was this going to become a thing?

“Clint thinks I’m going to betray you all.” Loki said, running his fingers along the edges of his finished sandwich packet. Tony’s mouth fell into a hard line.

“None of us can be certain.”

“But you’re willing to give me the benefit of the doubt?” Loki asked, eyebrows raised and face innocent.

“Everyone deserves a chance to not fuck up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick updates for you. I felt Loki's punishment needed to be acknowledged, and I hope I got Tony right. Feedback? Also, Agnar is the Asgardian king of the Eagles is you were wondering.


	7. "It seems essential, in relationships and all tasks, that we concentrate only on what is most significant and important." - Soren Kierkegaard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROTECTIVE LOKI IS PROTECTIVE?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day O: Please check warnings and be aware that the next chapter will deal with self harm issues.

Loki had been training with Clint and Natasha for a week (rather pointlessly, it was barely even exercise) and Stark for three days (significantly more challenging, though he still had to pull his punches) when the Dire Wraiths attacked. They were few, but the Avengers were down a significant member with Banner off at the postponed and important meeting with the Swedish Experimental Science Union and Stark dragged him into the fray nearly before he had time to change into his battle armour. As his helmet materialised on his head he scanned his eyes across the destruction, developing a battle plan. He took out the closest Wraiths with distaste; they really were foul creatures. Many of the soldiers he could see were women, which boded badly for the mortals; they were the only gender capable of performing magic, however basic.

Just as he was about to shoot off and destroy a small group of them who were arriving out of the atmosphere he caught sight of four females standing together, concentrating their power to create what would become, essentially, a very dangerous magic missile, very quickly. He dashed over to their intended target and, just in time, erected a shiny see-through shield over himself and Stark. As Stark looked over at him, startled, he felt the force of the missile literally shove him into the ground.

He stepped out of the two boot-shaped indents in the bitumen none the worse for wear and blinked hard a few times. Stark, obviously a little shaken, nodded to him. “Thanks.”

“Be more on guard next time. They may not be hyper intelligent, but they do not come unarmed.”

Loki spotted a group of maybe twenty or thirty civilians dashing out of an apartment block directly into an ambush. He was about to dash off to shield them when more people came out – not one but _two_ extra groups of people emerging straight into the oblivion. _Idiot_ mortals had no idea how to act in a warzone – if you couldn’t protect yourself you hid: that simple. Loki summoned up all of his energy then to perform a complicated series of spells that he’d only learnt recently and hadn’t truly tested yet – he figured it couldn’t have a worse result then doing nothing and having six thousand kilograms of pulpy human remains.

He took a deep breath and the familiar tugging of at his nose as the cosmic ties thrust themselves from his gloved fingers. It worked, though for how long he didn’t know: three duplicates of himself were performing his magic through themselves, covering them in a shiny transparent silver, absolutely impenetrable dome. He could literally feel the energy being tugged out of him, so he called out hoarsely to attract the attentions of the rest of the team. Stark and Rogers caught on quickly and between them they quickly cleared the area, smoothly disposing of the Dire Wraiths. When the coast was clear Loki dropped the spell, harshly yelled ‘run, you fools!’ to the pathetic mortals who stood startled and promptly dropped to the ground, his mind utterly defeated.

Stark dropped next to him, and held out an arm, helping him up. “Exhausted?” his tinny computerised voice asked.

“Mentally yes, physically I’m fit to fight. I just won’t be able to perform magic for a little while.”

“So you have to recharge your weapons, like my repulsors?”

“If recharging your repulsors involves the mental re-attachment of the cosmic ties to the centre of your skull, then yes.”

“Ah, so exactly nothing like it then.”

The rest of the fight sped by: the familiar scent of war electrified Loki and he managed to destroy at least seventy of the vile creatures with just his body alone. He felt elated: the tang of the blood never tasted as sweet as it did after long time without it and he felt the energy inside his bursting,

It felt good.

After the fight, Loki was rushed along by Rogers and Romanov to their apparent tradition, which ended up being a glorious meal of something called shawarma. The team were silent and battered while eating – Natasha was slumped sideways, resting her head on the table (though Loki didn’t doubt that she was as alert as ever), Stark had dry blood smudging his forehead and was chewing slowly in a way that might have been him savouring the taste but just as easily bred from pure exhaustion. Clint was still glaring at him, not trusting him for a second and Rogers was staring crossly at Barton - Loki knew his heroics today had earned some mega brownie points with the Captain.

Thor, somewhat unusually, was also morose, although Loki would be his helmet that it had nothing to do with the fight today and more to do with who was absent. It was unusual though: sitting in the tacky diner, as the adrenaline died down, he felt more accepted than he could ever remember. They all sat there in mutual silence, quietly sharing what they had experienced today. Stark had thrown him sincere thanks, Romanov had clapped on the back and Rogers had _smiled_ at him. Now here they were, slumped together, and Loki tries to tell himself not to get used to it, but the hopeful smile of Thor, the man he so loved and hated, despised and admired, the man who was trying to cheer him up even though he was going through emotional turmoil of his own, only gave him hope.

Bugger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time in the Marvel Universe, leave me concrit for Loki shaped cookies? Also trying to make Steve Rogers likeable and still Captain America is proving to be very counter-intuitive.

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not read on if you have any history of being triggered by: extreme violence, blood, non-suicidal self-harm, violence, mental instability, daddy issues. I will never judge someone for this. If at any point in this story a reader feels that more warnings need to be added, I hope that they contact me immediately. Thankyou ~


End file.
